Crossing Roads
by jayer
Summary: Two unwanted boys find a place to belong when their paths cross unexpectedly
1. Chapter 1

It was an old game. One he could do without but they never seemed to tire of. Boys, the nuns would say, could be cruel. Gabriel and his gang were particularly so. But not very inventive. Their tactics were always the same. The twins, Trevor and Nathaniel, would lie in wait and grab him, sitting on him if needed to hold him, always face down in the dirt. Gabriel would snatch off the handkerchief he wore to keep the sun from burning his bare head and use it to tie his hands behind his back, pulling the cloth so tight it often bruised his wrists.

Then they would take turns kicking him, punching him, and yelling at him. The taunts were always the same. Stupid, half-wit, worthless, trash. Jabs like his parents threw him out because he was too stupid to even talk. That a baby could learn to talk. They would goad him, trying to make him cry so they could add baby to their list of insults. But he wouldn't cry. He'd bite his lip until it bled just to keep the tears back, at least until he was alone. He had a spot, in the corner of the hay loft, where he could hide and cry without anyone seeing him.

The nuns would break up the 'fight' and send Gabriel and his friends off to be punished, but no amount of whippings was enough to ruin the pleasure of a good round of 'Stupid Ike'. One or two of the boys would answer the call to help him to the sick room, always with a look of disgust like they believed they could catch being mute just by touching him. The likely reason why they never helped him, sat next to him at meals, talked to him or even looked at him if they could help it. Even the nuns barely spoke to him, asking only if he was hurt bad, did he need to see the doctor, then patching him up and sending him to the cots to rest.

He'd lay there, wishing, half praying for a way out. Dreaming of some long lost relative to find out he was there and come fetch him. But he knew there was no one. The only person that was going to help him was himself. He came to realize that one afternoon after Gabriel's game turned harsh enough that he'd come away with a cracked rib. He made up his mind that very day that he was going to run away.

It took him three weeks of careful work to devise a way to slip out, to hoard away a meager supply of food and such. He'd said ten extra Hail Marys for swiping the knife out of the kitchen but he hoped God would understand that he needed it, just like he needed the blanket and coat he was taking with him.

It was a full moon the night he put his plan into action. He waited until he heard the old nun that always came and peered into the room to make sure they were all asleep come and go. He quickly dressed and slipped outside. He climbed up into his loft and retrieved his small bundle. Checking that no one was outside or at a window and could see his escape, he ran off into the night without a look back.


	2. Chapter 2

He refused to cry, although the wounds stung fiercely. Almost as much as the words Gray Wolf spat at him. The others in the village pretended not to hear. It was easy for them as they generally pretended not to see him. He was invisible to them, a living reminder of the crime committed by the white man. They avoided him as if to keep themselves clean. Like he was a disease. Even Gray Wolf kept his back turned when he could. And when he did not, it was to scold and yell.

Only Red Bear, his half brother, looked at him with anything but disgust. It was Red Bear who comforted him when their mother died. It was Red Bear brought the Healer when he was hurt or sick. It was Red Bear who taught him how to hunt and fish. It was Red Bear who pulled the other boys off of him when they goaded him into fights so they could attack him five to one.

It was Red Bear, and only Red Bear, he would miss. His heart could take it no longer. He wanted to scream out. He wanted to stand in front of the Elders and yell at all of them, punishment or not, for treating him like a dog. For holding him to blame for the offense against his mother. To ask them why they all looked through him as if he was a spirit. To beg them to tell him what he must do to prove he was Kiowa, what must he do to be one of them.

But he could not. He dared not. To insult the Elders would bring him shame and exile. It was only one step more than what he already felt.

He waited 3 days until the night of the full moon, spending his time fletching arrows, sharpening his knife. He told his brother he was going to go at dawn to hunt, refusing the offer of company. Red Bear was not fooled. He was waiting on the path. But he did not block the path. He held out a wrapped bundle of dried meat and bread and his own water bag and with a silent hug, stepped aside.


	3. Chapter 3

He'd left with no idea where he was going. He'd just started walking. He knew when morning came, they would start looking so he'd hide during the day. He figured he could sneak into barns and such at night to sleep. It wasn't much of a plan but it was all he had. He'd keep walking into he was far away from the orphanage, out in the wilderness where he might some kind soul that would let him work for a bed and food. Some soul that didn't care about how he looked or that he didn't talk.

He walked for days on end. He lost count after the first few. He avoided towns as much as he could at first. Only braving to go in once he was miles away from his former home and folks were not as likely to pay him any mind. A few looked and turned away, but no one stopped him or tried to talk to him. Once or twice he'd managed to acquire a few coins helping carry packages for ladies in their finery. Once he'd even managed, with some difficulty, to trade a day's labor for fresh bread.

But mostly he walked. He walked into he was too tired to take another step, but even tired to the bone, he couldn't stop the dreams. Horrible dreams of gunshots, and screaming, of the smell of blood. There were no faces in his dreams anymore but they were still awful enough. Dead horses, dead people. Rivers of blood that grew and grew until he was drowning.

He'd walk up wanting to scream, but he couldn't. All he could do was wrap himself up in his meager blanket and try to stop the shaking.


	4. Chapter 4

He'd been walking and hunting for almost the full turn of the moon, avoiding others as he had been taught. Red Bear would have been proud of the way he could pick up the slightest smell of sweat in the air, how he would shimmy up a tree to watch without being seen, how he could follow the riders' trail from even the tiniest broken leaf. It was not long before he was beyond their hunting grounds and there was no fear of being found and forced back to the village. Rabbits and other prey had become scarce but he managed to find something every few days to fill his stomach, giving him strength to continue walking.

He hoped to find a town or even just a cabin, soon. He was tired of sleeping on the dirt and, although it made him uncomfortable to feel it, he was tired of being alone. He found himself missing the sounds, the smells of the village. He missed Red Bear curling up next to him by the fire and filling his ear with talk of the village girls. He knew one of them would be chosen to marry his brother and she would be honored to be selected as the bride to a future war chief. And Red Bear would not argue the arrangement, but still he hoped she would be pretty. He missed taunting his brother about who would be his chosen one. Anyone not an enemy would be better than the silence.

He was so lost in thought that he was startled to hear the sound of a horse neighing. Stepping carefully through the brush, he came to a clearing where a small band of wild ponies were grazing. One of them, a beautiful russet mare, looked up at him. She stood, staring right at him for the longest time. It was as if time stood still. Finally he dared to step closer. But the mare bolted away, the others running after her. He watched until they were out of sight, then turned back down his trail.

The trail led further into the canyons until it reached a river. It was still too cold to dare to swim across but his luck held out. The spring thaw from the north mountains had not yet flooded the bed and he could see rocks scattered just under the surface. He could easily pick his way across the river. His luck however was not as good as he believed. Reaching the middle of the river, the rocks were further apart. He would have to leap between the rocks, which were slick with water.

He took a deep breath, focusing on the rock ahead of him. He held his breath and jumped as carefully as he could. But as his foot landed, a sound startled him and he lost his balance, crashing into the icy water. He felt the sting of his head hitting the rocks then there was only darkness.


	5. Chapter 5

It had been a good morning. The first is a long time. Ike stumbled onto a small river the day before and found a dry spot to camp for the night. He woke up early with the notion to try some fishing. If he was lucky, he'd have food for a few days and maybe even some extras to sell.

He found a shallow where the ground was soft enough to dig for worms and grubs to bait a line. He'd bought a few pennies worth of twine in the last town he'd passed and there were plenty of fallen branches.

It wasn't hard work but it still felt good. Ike remembered his father teaching him how to fish. It seemed like so long ago. For a moment, his chest felt tight as the memories churned to the surface. He pushed them aside and kept working.

For all his labor he only managed to catch two fish but it was after so many days of little to eat, it was a feast and he smiled as he gathered up his make-shift pole and his catch.

As he turned to walk back to his camp, he had an odd feeling that something wasn't right. He looked around but there was no one around. No animals either. Nothing that could explain why he hesitated.

And then, out of the corner of his eye, Ike saw a shape in the water. His heart dropped as he realized it was someone. He dropped the fish and pulled off his coat and hat on the ground. He quickly waded out into the water, ignoring the icy cold until he reached the boy. They were about the same age, Ike guessed. From the darker skin, an Indian, but he didn't know what tribe. There was a bloody gash on his forehead, no longer bleeding.

Ike quickly pulled the Indian boy from the water. Once he had the boy on solid ground, he checked for other wounds. He sighed with relief when he could find nothing else. The boy had probably slipped and fallen into the water, hitting his head on a rock. Ike could feel the chill on the boys skin, the shaking of his body as it tried to warm. There was still a danger of freezing to death and Ike quickly went to work on building a fire. He pulled the boys wet clothes off, wrapping him up in the blankets he used a bed roll. He laid the boy down as close to the fire as he dared before changing into dry clothes himself. He slid back into his coat and started to work on cleaning the fish, keeping one eye on the unconscious boy.


	6. Chapter 6

He woke to the smell of burning wood and for a moment he thought he was in the village. It was light out and he knew any moment his brother would come and drag him out of his blankets to run and join the hunt.

Then he remembered. Falling. The cold water. His head hurt. His eyes did not want to open for fear the pain would be worse.

He could hear someone moving nearby. He felt something cool against his lips. Water. He drank slowly, realizing only then how thirsty he was. He felt something cool, soothing, brush against his face.

Carefully he opened his eyes. It was a strange sight that greeted him. A boy, a white boy, so pale he seemed like a ghost, was sitting next to him. Watching him with intense eyes, worried eyes.

"I fell." He said, slowly sitting up. The movement made his head spin and for a moment he worried he might be sick. He closed his eyes and the feeling passed. When he opened them again, the boy was holding out the cup of water.

"You pulled me out." The boy nodded. He watched as the boy added more wood to the fire which was burning under a skewered fish. "Thank you."

The boy nodded again.

"My name is Running Buck."

The boy reached into a worn rucksack and pulled out a small tin plate and a knife. He pulled the fish down and off the branch. He sat down next to Buck and held the plate out.

Buck closed his eyes to say a prayer of gratitude for the fish's sacrifice. Then he quickly devoured the meat. The boy watched, a strange grin on his face.

Buck blushed at his ill manners. "Guess I was hungry." The boy laughed warmly. He understood hunger. "What's your name?"

He was answered only with silence and a look of discomfort from the boy. The boy picked up a stick and wrote in the dirt. I-K-E.

"Ike." Buck nodded. "I owe you my life."

Ike shrugged.

"You didn't have to pull me out. But you did. You took care of me. Gave me water and food. My people say when a man does this, you must repay his kindness or the spirits will be at unrest."

Buck's head pounded. He laid down on the soft dirt, only meaning to close his eyes for a moment. But sleep called to him. He felt Ike pull the blankets around him.

"I give you my word, Ike. I will repay you." He pledged before drifting off to sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

Ike opened his eyes to the pale light of dawn. It was his favorite time of the day. The moments just before the sun could be seen, when the sky was just starting to lighten. When everything was silent, even the roosters were not yet crowing. Everything was so still, so silent, that he didn't feel like something strange. Nothing spoke in that time.

Ike sat up, stretching. Buck stirred in his sleep. Ike reached over, carefully brushing away the strand of hair that had fallen into Buck's face. His skin was still warm but not as fevered as it had been during the night. Ike stood as quietly as he could. He had seen a patch of wild strawberries nearby. They would make a decent breakfast with the last of the fish. And then they would settle on what to do next. Ike hoped it wouldn't be to go their separate ways. Even though he knew nothing about this Indian boy, where he came from, why he was out there alone, Ike felt like he knew the boy. Like he had found a friend.

As Ike made his way through the brush and trees, his eyes picked up a faint sound. He remembered stories his mother used to tell him of The Good Ones, fairies and hobgoblins that danced and ran through the night, hiding themselves in burrows and holes during the day. She would say if you listened in the early hours you could hear them. You might think it was a bird or a rabbit, but it was them, sneaking back into their earthy homes. Ike was never sure he believed the stories but he loved hearing them. And when he heard the sounds in the morning, it made him think of her.

Ike found the patch and hurried to fill his hat with the juicy fruit. He wanted to get back to his little camp before Buck woke up, fearful the other boy would think himself abandoned and leave. The sky was turning bright blue and the birds waking up as he finished. As Ike turned to walk back, a movement caught his eye. There was something or someone nearby. Several from the sound of the footfalls. His first thought was perhaps his new friend had been part of a group of hunters and they were looking for him. If so, the only proper thing would be to show them the way to the camp. Ike made his way towards the sounds, which led him to a small field. He stepped out into the morning light with a smile at what he saw.


	8. Chapter 8

Buck woke with a start. At first he couldn't remember where he was. Looking around, the day before came back to him.

"Ike?" He called out hoarsely. There was no reply, no sound.

Buck reached for his clothes, finding them stiff but more or less dry. He quickly dressed and picked his way back to the creek. There was no sign of the other boy. His heart sank a little at the thought that he'd been left. Even though the boy wouldn't talk to him, perhaps couldn't talk to him, it had been nice to have someone nearby after so long being alone.

Buck washed his face in the cold water before walking back to the camp. Seeing the plate and other things he figured the boy would return and perhaps only went to find food. Something Buck could do as well. It would be repayment for the food Ike gave him. A small start on repaying the debt of saving his life.

Buck picked up his knife. He thought perhaps he might be able to find some rabbits in the woods. He wouldn't go far so he might hear if Ike came back. As he hunted, he heard a sound in the air, running. He remembered the herd of wild horses and decided to see if they were still nearby. When Ike returned, he would show the herd to him.

But when Buck reached the field, he was surprised to find that Ike was there. He was standing only inches away from a beautiful chestnut pony, the two of them staring at each other like they were sizing one another up. Buck moved to walk towards Ike when the other boy suddenly stepped up to the animal and in a movement so quick it was almost magic had leap up onto the pony's back. Gripping the horse's mane, he held on as the pony tried to toss him. Within seconds, he had the horse under his gentle control, the two of them taking a jog around the field.

"That is amazing." Buck said with a smile as he crossed the field.

Ike slid off the pony's back, giving it a gentle pat.

"How did you?" Buck asked in awe.

Ike shrugged, looking away with a cringe.

Buck put a careful hand on Ike's shoulder. "You understand me don't you?"

Ike nodded, still looking away.

"You can't answer me, can you?" The answer to Buck's promise came to him as Ike nodded again. He knew what he had to do to repay his debt.

Buck stepped up so he was directly in front of Ike. "I want you to talk to me." Ike looked at him confused. Buck raised his hands to his chest. His people had two languages, one that was their own, the other used to speak to other tribes. That second language would have another use now.

"I" Buck pointed a finger to his chest. "Want." he lifted a fist to his mouth. "You" He pointed at Ike who began to understand what Buck was saying, "to talk to me" Buck finished with more signs.

Ike nodded with a smile. He pointed at the hat full of berries he'd left on the ground, putting a hand on his stomach.

Buck nodded. "yeah. after breakfast." He laughed, for the first time in a very long time. As they left the field, he looked up to the sky, saying a silent prayer of thanks to the Spirits that led him to his first real friend.


End file.
